


Home

by McParrot



Series: Coming Home [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McParrot/pseuds/McParrot
Summary: This story continues immediately on from my story Coming Home which is a Countrycide post ep. It isn’t necessary to read that first as this stands alone. It has my usual type of romantic fluffy ending,
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Coming Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571119
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes some way to get us from Cyberwoman, where Ianto absolutely hates Jack, to They Keep Killing Suzie where it is obvious that they are not just sleeping together but comfortable enough with their relationship for Ianto to be initiating games with a stopwatch. I also had to explore the line in Greeks Bearing Gifts where Ianto is in so much pain that there isn’t an inch of him that doesn’t hurt etc. I can’t believe that was never picked up on again, that Tosh didn’t do something. Hell, how could you know that about a colleague and not act on it in some way?
> 
> McParrot is uploading all of her fic to AO3  
> These pieces have not been updated or re-edited  
> This piece originally posted to FF.net. Sept 13 2008

After they brought him home from Brecon Beacons Ianto spent three days sleeping in Jack’s bed. He slept as though sleeping was his whole existence and as he slept his body slowly began to heal his wounds and his brain to recover from the concussion. When he wasn’t sleeping he lay there, not moving, not thinking, just existing in a grey emptiness. The greyness had highlights, the crack in the tile on the wall beside the pillow, a fold in the sheet, the spill of light from the half closed bathroom doorway. He was doped to the eyeballs on opiates and as long as he didn’t move there was little pain and just occasional nausea to intrude on the nothingness that had taken over his thought processes.   
Someone was with him at all times, he was vaguely aware of that. At least someone was there every time he was aware enough to notice. Tosh or Jack was always there. They cared for him gently and quietly and didn’t make a fuss when they had to clean things up when he was sick or on the embarrassing occasion when he wet the bed. Jack would gather him in his arms, wrap him in a blanket and sit with him on the ancient sofa while Tosh changed the bed. Then they would tuck him back in and he would fixate on the crack on the wall again.  
Owen was there sometimes doing doctory stuff. Of Gwen there was no sign. Presumably she was at home getting over her own injuries.  
He would wake and he would sleep and there was very little to tell the difference between the two states. Except sometimes he would know he was awake because he could feel Jack’s body tucked around his own. Every night and sometimes during the day Jack crawled into bed and held him. He knew if it was night because the light from the hole above was darker. When he felt the warmth and safety of those hugs the greyness became a little less empty. Sometimes he cried. But in Jack’s arms he would sleep a little deeper and wake again more rested and a little more healed.   
On the fourth day, about when Owen was doing some shouting about hospitals and CT Scans he woke up and felt a lot better. He was able to sit up in bed for a while and even managed to drink some tea and eat a little strawberry yoghurt. Then he lay down again and went back to sleep.  
On the fifth day they took the IV out and hauled him up out of the hatch, it was uncomfortably like being birthed. They took him home to his flat. The world outside of Jack’s bunker was a complete assault on his fragile senses. He felt naked and vulnerable and the car ride made him sick. They put him in his large empty bed and he curled up in a small painful ball, cried and went to sleep.   
He woke later to Jack’s warm body wrapped around his and felt a vast sense of relief. He’d thought they’d left him alone again.  
The next day Jack made him get up and helped him shower. Jack was gentle and supportive and completely impersonal. After all he had promised Owen that he wasn’t going to seduce him.   
Ianto went back to bed and Tosh came in. When he woke again she was still there and he was able to decide that he would like to try eating some scrambled egg. She made him get up and come out to the couch in the lounge to eat it.  
Tosh fetched his duvet and after he’d eaten he slept on the couch.   
Owen tapered the pain meds off at the same time insisting that he get more active, move around more. He had a bad couple of days before things settled but his thought processes improved immensely. The greyness cleared a little but it seemed to be replaced by pain. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. His ribs were the worst. Owen said they were broken and if he didn’t get himself moving and breathing deeper he would get pneumonia. Owen didn’t have to breathe deeply with broken ribs.   
Then on the eighth night after Brecon Beacons as he was getting ready for bed, at 7.30 in the evening, Tosh arrived, and after giving him a soft kiss on his forehead Jack left.  
Tosh made up a bed on the couch and surprisingly bereft Ianto slept alone in his large empty bed.  
Ianto rationalised things. Of course, Jack wasn’t going to stay sleeping in his bed forever. Of course not. He’d only done it to help him get better. He’d done what he had promised and looked after him. He hadn’t seduced him or made any attempt to do so at all. He had just cared for him. Now Ianto was better he had to learn to get back to normal. And besides Jack was probably out most nights getting laid. He had taken a long time out of his normal routine to look after one of his staff. It really was above and beyond the call of duty. Ianto had been lucky to have that much attention from him.  
The rationalisation didn’t help. He was so lonely.  
He slowly continued to get better.  
Jack still came in for some time with him during the day. One day he came in mid afternoon, bundled him into his warmest coat and took him out to the flower gardens in the Domain. Ianto’s mind was starting to work again, to be able to process more than one strand of information at a time. It was a relief. He’d been able to read the newspaper that morning and make sense of the words, a real achievement compared to the frightening jumble of letters it had seemed a few days earlier.  
They strolled around the duck pond, Ianto content just to be out in the fresh air. They walked close together and he could feel the warmth of Jack’s body close in the cool air as he measured his pace to Ianto’s. Unconsciously he reached out and found Jack’s hand, clasped it and was held in return. Neither of them said anything, just kept slowly walking holding hands.  
Ianto tired terribly quickly and one lap of the pond was all he could manage. He sat on a bench while Jack got them ice creams, a feeling of warm happiness sliding through the greyness. He didn’t know what this was, he was so NOT gay, and this was the man who had killed Lisa and threatened to kill him. In his topsy turvy world he didn’t know why but being with Jack Harkness made him feel good. He felt cared for.  
But after that day Jack didn’t come in again at all.  
By the end of the next week he could breathe more or less normally if he didn’t do anything to exert himself. Since anything more than sitting absolutely still was an exertion, that wasn’t terribly helpful, but it was an improvement. Owen was quite pleased with his progress.   
Tosh had stopped staying the night and when she did come in she seemed a little distracted. He’d watched so many DVD’s his eyes were sore and the plots melded into some dreadful muddle, his mind unable to grasp the smaller details. He still couldn’t read a book, the words became a completely meaningless jumble of random letters. He still slept a lot. The nightmares came back. Horrible truths: Canary Wharf, Lisa’s death, Breacon Beacons mixed with horror show fiction and all his dreams shared a huge sense of loss. His tangled thought processes could never remember any specific memories when he woke up. That was probably a good thing.   
Boredom drove him back to work and the distraction seemed to help. He couldn’t do much, still couldn’t concentrate on any real work for more than a few minutes but he could make coffee, could keep the place tidy, could see the others and feel part of the place. He said he was fine. He knew they knew he wasn’t as fine as he said but he was sure they had no idea how bad things were. He was after all the master at keeping secrets.   
They were solicitous, caring even. Jack was polite and impersonally kind. If any of them had a clue how bad he really felt Ianto knew he’d be carted back home and forcibly sedated. His healing wounds hurt yes, but the loneliness and the nightmares somehow physically hurt too, so much so that there didn’t seem to be an inch of him that didn’t feel pain. Even his teeth hurt. And his stomach felt as if rats were gnawing inside him. Although Tosh or Gwen was cooking him at least one good meal a day he found he couldn’t eat more than a few mouthfuls. Even coffee, his own coffee made with his wonderful machine tasted like crap. Owen refused to give him anything stronger than paracetamol any more. He felt truly terrible. No one knew.  
He still suffered from fatigue too. There was no way he could hide it. Owen said it could be months before it settled; it was common after a closed head injury, even a relatively mild one. Nice to know this was only a mild one. Often quite suddenly he would just need to sleep. When he needed to sleep he needed to sleep now! His first day back, naively he’d thought he could keep it in check. It took him by surprise and he found himself sitting down on the floor by his desk in the archives, giving in and lying on the floor. When he woke up there was a pillow under his head and a blanket tucked around him. His tie had been removed and his shirt and trousers loosened. Tosh was sitting at the desk reading some dusty old file.  
He’d been embarrassed.   
Tosh took him home. She’d stayed for tea and told him about Gwen and Owen’s antics. Ianto couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed. Rutting like animals, was Tosh’s description. She didn’t stay long, she was going off to meet a friend for a drink in a bar. She was more animated than he’d seen her for a long time.  
Jack and Owen took him aside when he arrived for work the next morning and told him that if he needed to rest he was to take himself down to Jack’s bed anytime he needed. They would see that he wouldn’t be disturbed.  
He’d tried to catch up on the filing that had been stacking up in his absence but by mid afternoon his brain was shutting down again. He needed to sleep. Feeling vaguely silly he headed for Jack’s office hoping he wouldn’t be there. Of course he was, standing staring at some massive alien egg beater on his desk, walking around and around it muttering to himself. He looked up when Ianto came to the door and smiled in welcome. Ianto wished he wouldn’t. That smile was so sweet it brought tears to his eyes.  
‘I…’ Damn his treacherous brain. He couldn’t think of what to say.  
‘Here.’ Jack’s arm came around his waist and he led him over to the hatch. With a sense of de ja vu he let Jack help him down the hole. The feeling was compounded when Jack without saying a word quietly undressed him and tucked him into his bed. He closed his eyes tight against tears and fell asleep.  
When he woke he was alone. The crack on the wall was exactly the same.  
He got up and decided to shower. Jack must have anticipated that because there was a clean towel and a disposable razor laid out beside the basin. He was grateful for the gesture.  
Dressed again he discovered Jack at his desk fiddling with his egg beater, pointing something like a laser torch at it and watched screeds of numbers scrolling across his computer screen. He was quite animated. He stopped and smiled at Ianto. ‘How you doing?’  
‘I’m all right. Thank you sir. I just…’  
Jack smiled at him, ‘Needed to sleep?’  
Ianto grimaced. ‘Yes.’  
‘That’s all right,’ Jack grinned. ‘You know you’re welcome in my bed anytime.’  
And that, he thought was the first time Jack had made an inappropriate comment to him in weeks. He must be getting better.  
‘Are you hungry? Why don’t we go and get something to eat?’  
He wasn’t hungry, he was never hungry but he smiled anyway. ‘Thank you. That would be nice.’  
Given the choice of food types Ianto chose Chinese. He couldn’t have coped with anything spicy but thought chicken chowmein would be all right. He didn’t eat much but he did enjoy what he had. Jack was pleasant company although a little distracted. At one point he asked a strange question. ‘Do you think Tosh is the type to go to a pub quiz?’  
Ianto didn’t have to think about that very hard. The thought was ludicrous. ‘No.’  
‘Yeah,’ Jack said. ‘That’s what I thought too.’ He didn’t elaborate and Ianto didn’t think any more of it until later.  
Jack had the leftovers doggy bagged and had him home by eight thirty. He was embarrassed to be yawning hugely and more than ready for bed again. Jack pottered in his kitchen, made them both hot chocolates, and brought them through to the bedroom. He settled himself on top of the covers on the bed beside him, arranged the pillows to his satisfaction and they watched the TV news. Ianto was drooping slightly, nearly missed the local item about a woman foiling an attempted murder. He was confused, they only showed her briefly in a shaky camera angle from the back but he could have sworn it was Tosh.  
Jack obviously thought so too. ‘How has Tosh seemed to you lately?’ he asked.  
He tried to think. ‘I don’t know. She’s been really nice to me since the… since I got hurt.’ He could barely keep his eyes open.  
‘Mmm. Do you think she knows how you’re feeling?’  
‘She seems to yes.’ He smiled shyly. He did like Tosh. A lot. He hoped… thought… maybe, she might like him. ‘It’s nice.’ He didn’t seem to have the strength to hold onto the cup and it started to slide out of his hand. Jack grabbed it before it could spill and reached across him to set it on the bedside cabinet. He kissed him lightly on the forehead as he straightened up.  
‘You need to go to sleep,’ he said gently. ‘You’re still healing. Here,’ he lifted the quilt, ‘snuggle down.’  
Ianto snuggled. Jack lay down beside him, although he was still on top of the bed and put his hand on his head, running his fingers through his hair. The sensation was blissful. Jack reached over and turned off the lights, put his arm around him. Ianto was asleep long before he could articulate how much he wished that Jack would stay the night. When he woke up he was alone.  
The next few days were similar. He worked in the archives in the morning while his brain was fresh, then once the filing system stopped making sense pottered with cleaning and tidying. And when he needed to rest Jack seemed to know. Jack’s bunker was the ideal environment for resting an over stimulated brain. He didn’t always fall straight asleep now, sometimes it was enough just to lie there and stare at the crack on the wall.  
One afternoon he started awake to feel Jack’s hand on his shoulder and his finger on his lips. ‘Gahh!’ Instantly he was back, waking with Jack on top of him. Lisa was attempting to kill them.   
‘Shh,’ Jack warned him now just as he had then.   
Terrified he fought the other man.  
‘Ianto,’ Jack said urgently lifting his hands off. ‘It’s all right. Shh. Be quiet.’ He backed away. ‘Wake up. Keep quiet.’  
Fear was coursing through him and his heart was pounding as Ianto shot up.  
‘It’s all right,’ Jack said. ‘It’s safe, for now.’ He sat back down on the bed and checking it was okay pulled him into a hug. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how waking you up like that would seem…’ So, Jack remembered that too. ‘Are you all right now? Awake? I need you awake.’  
Ianto nodded, he still couldn’t find his voice. He coughed. Jack shushed him again. He suddenly realised that something was going on. He found his voice, ‘What is it? What’s happening?’  
‘I need you to get dressed,’ Jack told him. ‘Take yourself down into the archives but stay where you can keep an eye on the Hub. I’m worried about Tosh. She seems to be taking an unusual interest in our latest artefact and she is certainly not herself. I have a feeling she is in cahoots with the artefact’s owner and may try and bring it in here or steal the piece.’  
‘Tosh?’ Ianto couldn’t believe it. ‘You think she’s helping an alien?’  
‘Yes Ianto, I do.’ Jack was sincere. ‘I hope I’m wrong, but I need us all to be ready.’ He helped him up and handed him his pants. ‘Get dressed quickly. She’s heading this way now with another woman. Just in case this is what I think, we need to be ready. Owen and Gwen are already in place.’ He handed him his shirt. ‘Okay?’  
Numbly he nodded. Not Tosh. She wouldn’t.  
He slipped out of Jack’s office just as the door alarm sounded. Only minutes later he was standing terrified as the blond woman Tosh had come in with held a dreadful blade to her throat. Someone else he loved in was in danger. This was too much. Dear God, don’t let this be happening again.  
When Jack had tricked the alien into exchanging Tosh for the transport device she ran to him but he was too shocked to do more than put his hand on her shoulder. As the alien dematerialised he stared in disbelief. Too much to take in.   
In the aftermath he reverted to his usual post mission role, he took down Tosh’s statement, settled the paperwork. He was using the work to keep himself from thinking about how badly things had nearly become. He’d let Tosh down, she could have died. He had been so scared.  
It wasn’t until everyone had left the Hub that he was able to think. He had to make things up to her.  
Jack took Tosh outside to a bench in the Plas to do his own version of a debrief, to try to say the right things. He knew how hard Jack would try to get that right. Ianto hung around, watching on the CCTV. He saw Tosh crush the pendant and then a few minutes later Jack left. He’d be going to find some high point or the top of a building no doubt. Ianto had a selection of grainy cell phone photos and a few really good quality images of Jack on top of buildings all over Cardiff that he’d managed to keep out of various newspapers. Many of the dates that the pictures had been taken on coincided with disturbing events at Torchwood. He’d have to be on his guard tomorrow.  
Later he knocked on the door of Tosh’s flat with flowers, wine and a box of chocolates. He didn’t know what she’d really like but one of those ought to do the trick. What he should have brought was tissues.  
‘No one understands me,’ Tosh moaned hours later. She’d had most of the bottle of wine and was now chugging back G&Ts, much more G than T. ‘I thought she did.’ She yanked another length of loo paper off a roll on the coffee table and blew her nose. ‘I can’t believe I fell for it. I’m hardly the sort for idle flattery.’  
‘I know,’ Ianto commiserated yawning wildly. ‘Of course not. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.’ He couldn’t either. This was Tosh. Tosh he’d had a crush on since he met her. Tosh who had tried to take care of him at the Beacons and who he had tried to sacrifice himself to let her get away. He loved Tosh. How had he not noticed?  
‘You said that already,’ she reminded him. ‘I can’t believe Jack killed her.’ She shuddered, still conflicted by the loss of her lover, even if she had tried to kill her. They really did have a lot in common Ianto thought. ‘Did you see his face?’  
He had: a chilling gloating look as he outsmarted the alien. He understood though and found himself in the strange situation of defending Jack. ‘He would have just sent her home to face whatever though, if she hadn’t hurt you. That’s why he killed her.’  
Tosh burst into more messy sobs.   
Sighing he pulled her in against her and held her as she cried. He had to be here for her like she’d been for him, but he was so tired. He sympathised, he really did but…‘Come on,’ he tried. ‘You need to go to bed.’ Surprisingly she let him lead her into her bedroom and stood there while he wondered what to do next. She leaned against him crying quietly, it was breaking his heart. Finally he decided she had done this for him, he had to be capable of doing it for her. He sat her on the bed and taking hold of her tee shirt lifted it over her head. She didn’t say anything, just let him do it. He undid her jeans and had to help her up to take them off. She leant against him like a broken doll. She was left in bra and panties. In any other circumstance he would have been ecstatic to be in this situation, now he just felt terribly sad. Holding her close against his chest he fumbled to undo her bra, he actually remembered something his Mam had said about how uncomfortable they were to sleep in.   
She had lovely little breasts, perky and inviting. He knew he’d remember this for years. Trying not to look he pulled the tee shirt back over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed. She clung to him and he stroked her hair and made soothing noises. He didn’t know what else to do. She wouldn’t let him go so sighing he lowered them both onto the mattress and pulled the duvet up. He certainly didn’t mind having a lie down himself.  
He woke later hot and uncomfortable. He got up and got a drink of water, turned the lights out though out the flat, and undressed down to his underclothes. His jacket was all mussed up from sleeping in it. More comfortable he slipped back into the bed. Tosh was snoring, loudly. He gave her a little push and she rolled over, the snoring stopped. Smiling at the thought of drunken Tosh he pulled her in against him wrapping her tight in his arms. Sad for his friend, yet happy to be needed, to not be alone himself he didn’t take long to go back to sleep.  
Early in the morning he awoke to find his morning erection hard and hot and pressing itself urgently against the buttocks of the woman he was in bed with. God damn! He froze. Even fuzzily half awake he knew that following through on this wasn’t the thing to do, for the same reason he hadn’t taken advantage of her drunken state the night before. He knew if he wanted, Tosh would have had sex with him last night, even just to prove that she wasn’t gay. But Tosh needed a friend right now, not a shag. Fortunately, she was very soundly asleep. He sadly pulled away from her, lying on his back and trying to ignore what felt like a pressing need. Unfortunately, he had a feeling this was something else he’d be remembering for quite a few years to come too.   
He got up and showered, taking care of himself under the hot water. He suddenly had an insight as to why Jack may have stopped sleeping in his bed. I mean this was proof, he was so not gay, but poor Jack had probably woken several mornings in just such a frustrating state. He knew Jack fancied him. He’d exploited it to get the job. But Jack had never forced himself on him, in fact recently it was just the opposite. It was funny really.  
Funny and somehow terribly sad.  
And lonely.  
On his way home to put on fresh clothes he realised it was the first time since he couldn’t remember when that he hadn’t woken up curled around the rats in his stomach.  
After giving the matter considerable thought he made himself a bowl of porridge smothered in runny honey and ate that to celebrate. His insides seemed to appreciate it and stayed quite settled and comfortable the rest of the morning.  
He spent the morning sorting out Mary’s affairs, having her things put into storage and her flat lease wound up. He couldn’t find any work records, taxation records or social security for her and surmised that she had supported herself under the radar using the profession of the original unfortunate Mary. His brain seemed to be functioning quite well.  
By lunch time Tosh still hadn’t showed and he was feeling a little concerned. He went and found Jack. ‘Have you heard from Tosh at all this morning sir?’  
Jack looked up from his pile of paperwork. He looked tired and unhappy. ‘No, I haven’t. How was she when you left her this morning?’  
Ianto didn’t even bother asking how Jack knew that he’d been there last night. It wouldn’t have been hard to discover, after all his car had been parked outside Tosh’s house all night.  
‘She was sleeping. She’s going to have the hangover from hell. I’d like to go and check on her if I may. I don’t know what she’s going to be like, otherwise.’  
‘Yes, of course. Ianto are you…?’ Jack looked up and really looked at him. He grinned. ‘I was going to say, are you all right to drive right now. You usually need a nap around this time but… You look much better today.’  
Ianto smiled back. ‘Thank you sir. I am.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto can't sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looking at this from 2019 I think Jack is ridiculously out of character here...   
> But that's how I wrote it.

Things slowly got back to normal. Tosh came back to work and to Ianto’s disappointment she didn’t seem interested in deepening their friendship. She was quite happy to chat, smile and accept his coffee. She put one her own version of a mask and although they all knew she wasn’t really all right they let her pretend that she was. That seemed to be the Torchwood way. Tosh even came to his flat to eat, seemed happy to see him when he invited himself to her place, but without anything being said she made it obvious that there was nothing more between them. He maintained a hope that maybe when she’d got over what had happened with Mary, she might think differently. I mean, he thought, you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to trust people right now. And he supposed, he didn’t exactly have a very good track record in the trustworthy department.  
The high point of his day was his low point. He still needed his afternoon rest and for reasons he couldn’t even begin to understand Jack’s bed was a place of peace and comfort. Sometimes he slept and sometimes he didn’t. His fixation with the crack on the wall eased and he started to become more aware of the rest of the strange little room, the vaulted ceiling, the near total lack of décor or personality. He really couldn’t fathom why with all the empty rooms and spaces in this underground complex Jack should choose to make his bedroom down here. Yet the bed was comfortable, and it smelt of Jack. He started to dread the days when he would no longer need to come down here and recharge.  
When he was resting Jack stayed in his office. He could hear him moving around sometimes, at other times was just aware that he was there, at his desk working, or pretending to. If someone tried to come in Jack shooed them away. No one bothered trying any more. Ianto couldn’t work out what he’d done to deserve such loyalty, but he was grateful.  
He needed his day time sleeps to cope with his night times. Exhaustion meant that nine o’clock was the latest he could put off going to bed, but he usually woke around 2.30 sick, shaking and crying with nightmares. He tried not sleeping but his injured brain wouldn’t let him. Just one night was all he managed. The result was messy and had Owen and Jack very alarmed. He nearly got sent to hospital for an urgent brain scan. He gave up and tried to learn to live with it.  
The trick he decided was to have something to do, to occupy him when he did wake up, and to stop him fretting and dwelling on the dreams that had woken him. Driving out to a storage locker in the suburbs he liberated his father’s sewing machine, and tools. He set them all up in his lounge, handling the scissors, tape measures, tailors chalk and other things with reverence. Memories of his Dad were imbedded in the tools. Dad working late in the back room, teaching and explaining, talking as he worked, showing him the way to cut and drape, feel the quality, the feeling of being precious and loved, it was all there and it was all very welcome.  
Now, when the nightmares woke him, as soon as he’d gotten himself under control he went out to the lounge and worked on whatever project he’d set himself. It was fanciful to think Dad was there with him but practising his craft certainly helped soothe him and keep him from fragmenting.  
The first thing he did was carefully take apart his favourite suit. He had lost so much weight that the pants had been in danger of sliding to his ankles every time he coughed. He started with the pants, carefully picked the seams apart and trimmed out the excess fabric. He practised sewing on an old tablecloth that he found in one of Dad’s boxes and when he was happy that he could do so safely he sewed the pants back together. They sat beautifully and looked good. His arse looked good. He was very pleased with himself.   
The next night he started on the jacket, it was harder because it was lined. The alterations to change the size went smoothly but it was harder to put the lining back in neatly with the tucks for ease moving place with the size change. Working at three or four in the morning probably wasn’t ideal.  
He sewed and unpicked for three nights. During the day he was the near invisible coffee maker, archive keeper and general goffer of Torchwood. No one could have guessed that his mind was full of sewing techniques. His nap was taken up with running through variations on his lining problem. He wished he knew a real tailor he could ask. He missed his Dad.   
He went to bed at night, fixated on his sewing and woke up amid Lisa’s blood and guts or a fridge of body parts in a cellar. How could that be?   
He finally decided the lining was the best it was going to get and anyway no one else would ever see it. The jacket looked great from the outside. When he put the pants on too, he was delighted with the look. When he wore the suit to work the next day, he noticed Jack scoping out his butt on more than one occasion. He guessed that was a good result.  
Gwen complimented him on how well he was looking. It was amazing how well fitting clothes hid pain, lack of sleep and anorexia.  
On Saturday he took himself to a draper’s shop and bought patterns and fabric. He was going to make himself some shirts.   
At 3.30am Sunday morning he had the pattern pinned to the fabric and was just about to start cutting when he heard a key turning in his front door. What?! No one should have his key. Fighting down panic he grabbed the scissors. Holding them like a knife he slunk back against the wall next to the living room door heart in his throat. The front door was quietly closed. He couldn’t believe this. What the fuck was happening now?  
His head was roaring. Christ he couldn’t do this, couldn’t get hurt again. No damn it, he wasn’t going to let it happen. He wasn’t going to let some bastard break into his home and hurt him. He was strong enough to look after himself. Footsteps moved furtively in the hallway. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? A figure came through the door and furious he leapt, scissors outstretched. He went for the neck. It was a spur of the moment thing. The scissors weren’t designed for stabbing but he thought he might have a chance.  
The man cried out, fell to the floor and he followed him down ready to strike again before he realised who was under him. It was Jack.   
With a sob Ianto dropped the scissors. Jack wrenched around ready to defend himself before he too realised what was happening and they lay in a tangle on the floor breathing hard. Reaction hit Ianto like a truck and he flung himself away and was sick in the doorway.  
It was disgusting. Vomit shot up his nose, bile and drool dribbled from his lip. He spat. Blinked back tears. He huddled there shaking as the adrenaline left him. He could barely breathe. Christ he’d been scared. He’d nearly killed Jack. Shit Jack… was he all right?   
Then Jack sank down the wall and sat beside him. ‘Ianto?’  
What-are-you-doing-here-fuck-christ-you-scared-me-I’m-so-sorry-are-you-all-right? He managed a large inward gasp of air but couldn’t say anything.  
‘Yan?’ Tentatively Jack placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be asleep. I’ve still got a key from when I was looking after you.’ He patted him awkwardly. ‘When I saw the light on, I just thought you must have left it on. I didn’t mean to scare you.’  
Ianto was starting to pull himself together although he still felt like he wanted to cry. He fumbled in the pocket of his robe for a handkerchief and blew his nose, wiped his mouth. Jack pulled him against him and he leant in gratefully, until he felt Jack wince.  
‘Are you all right?’  
‘Lucky I was wearing my coat. I think the collar took the force.’ He grimaced and put his hand up to his left shoulder. ‘What did you hit me with? My whole arm’s gone numb.’  
‘Scissors,’ Ianto said. ‘Let me see.’ He got to his knees and investigated Jack’s shoulder. He had actually punched a hole right through his great coat collar and the fabric layer underneath. The woollen fabric was wet with blood. Shit. Carefully he eased the garment off him, right arm first before sliding it off the left side. Jack held himself rigid, it hurt. His shirt was red with blood, a lot of blood. ‘Shit.’  
He quickly discarded the idea of his used hanky as a suitable dressing, likewise his new shirt fabric was not going to do, it wouldn’t be absorbent enough. ‘Stay here.’ He shot into the kitchen and grabbed a pile of clean tea towels out of the drawer. Racing back he grabbed the scissors, alarming Jack and quickly cut the collar of the shirt and the tee underneath it right along to the shoulder on the injured side to allow access to the wound. The blood was coming from right at the base of Jack’s neck and soaking down his front. He shoved a tea towel against his neck and pressed it tight. Jack jerked and groaned. His eyes were shut.  
The injury didn’t seem to be life threatening, thank God although Jack was quite pale. It certainly wasn’t pumping blood. He hadn’t hit the jugular. Ianto felt for a pulse at the wrist with his free hand and found it fast but steady. Probably not too different to how his own was behaving. He took Jack’s right hand and placed it on the tea towel. ‘Here. Apply pressure. Okay?’ He untangled the coat and wrapped it back around him; he needed to keep him warm. ‘We’ll just sit here a few minutes. See if it stops bleeding or if we need to get it seen to. Okay?’  
‘Yeah. Okay.’  
‘Do you need to lie down?’  
‘Maybe. No,’ his eyes opened briefly, ‘I’m all right like this.’  
‘Okay.’ He sat down close on Jack’s right, and now Jack leant against him. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’ He put one arm around his shoulders and the other hand over Jack’s hand on the towel.  
Jack gave a snort. ‘Think that was probably my own fault, don’t you?’  
‘Yeah. Maybe you should have knocked. What are you doing here?’  
Jack snuggled a little closer and made a strange sad noise. ‘Sorry.’ His breath hitched and to Ianto’s utter shock he realised Jack was crying. He slid his hand out from under Ianto’s and rubbed his sleeve across his eyes.  
Jack’s tears threw Ianto into panic. ‘Jack, what is it? What’s wrong?’ He envisaged all sorts of disasters. His heart started to thump again. ‘Is someone hurt? Is it Tosh? What’s happened?’  
‘Nothing,’ Jack said firmly. He took several deep breaths, sniffed. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Sorry. I keep scaring you. I just…’ his lip trembled. ‘I shouldn’t have come. It was silly.’  
‘What was?’  
‘I just…’ Jack let his head thunk back against the wall. He was desperately trying not to cry.  
‘It’s all right Jack.’ Although he’d said there was nothing wrong Ianto felt something twist in his gut. He was frightened. He tightened his grip. This was just so not Jack. ‘Tell me. Please.’   
The words when they came were so soft, he could hardly hear them. ‘I had a bad dream.’  
‘Aww sweetheart.’ It was a huge relief. He gently kissed him on the temple. Jack was crying openly now.  
‘I don’t know why. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. I hadn’t worked it through.’ Jack was sinking further and further down the wall. ‘I just wanted… was going to let myself in and then… I was going to get into bed with you.’  
‘And feel safe?’ Ianto understood completely. It had just never occurred to him that Jack might ever feel that need.  
‘Yeah. And feel safe.’  
Ianto held him tight. He was crying himself. Jack was mirroring his own pain and loneliness. He didn’t know which of them he was crying for.  
After a few minutes he carefully got to his knees and checked under the towel. To his relief the bleeding seemed to have nearly stopped. He probed the wound slightly, Jack flinched. It was a deep little puncture into the base of the neck. ‘I must have hit your collar bone. No wonder your arm went numb. How is it now?’  
Jack tried raising his arm and shuddered. ‘It feels tingly. My whole shoulder is sore.’  
‘Can you feel your fingers?’  
The fingers flexed. ‘Yeah. It’ll be all right.’  
‘I’m just going to go out to my car for my good first aid kit. Okay.’ He got up grimacing as he stepped around the mess in the doorway.  
‘I’ll help you tidy up soon,’ Jack said.  
‘Yes, well. Least you can do.’  
When he came back in Jack was standing at the table looking at his pattern. ‘What are you doing?’ Ianto was pleased to see he was standing back so he wouldn’t get blood on the fabric.  
‘I’m making myself a shirt.’  
Jack smiled. ‘Good for you.’ Awkwardly he sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Do you usually do it in the middle of the night?’  
Ianto looked at him. ‘I do. Yes.’ He went into the bathroom and washed his hands. When he came back he carefully folded the fabric and removed it to the sofa out of potential harm’s way. He laid out a dressing pack and a towel. Jack just watched him. This shy, tear stained Jack was a stranger and Ianto didn’t know what to say to him. He retrieved the scissors from the floor and held them up. ‘My Dad’s. They were his pride and joy. They’re Italian.’ He cut the rest of the sleeve of Jack’s shirt from the cuff to the shoulder and then cut up from the waist so that it peeled off. ‘Sorry. It was already ruined.’  
‘Do you sleep at all?’ Jack asked  
‘The early part of the night.’  
‘Nightmares?’  
‘Yes.’ He peeled the towel away from Jack’s neck. Spectacular bruising was already starting to show on his shoulder. The puncture wound was still seeping slightly but it would be all right. It didn’t need stitches. ‘You should probably have some antibiotics. That’s quite deep.’  
‘No. It will be all right. I heal quickly. It will be fine in a week. You’ll see.’  
He cleaned the wound with saline and cotton wool and taped a dressing in place. Then he fetched a bowl of water and a wash cloth and cleaned the blood off Jack’s chest. Jack kept his eyes closed the whole time. His breathing was slightly irregular. His face was still pale.  
Ianto gave Jack two paracetamol and fetched a clean tee shirt, an old Welsh rugby supporter’s shirt that Lisa had given him once. He didn’t know quite why he chose that shirt except that it comforted him. He helped Jack slide his left arm into it and eased it over his head. It sat snugly on him emphasising his neat torso.   
Jack showed no signs of moving so with a sigh Ianto disposed of the water and dressing waste and fetched a bucket. He did get up then and came over and watched while Ianto cleaned the sick off the floor. Jack took the bucket off him, changed the water and then had a go at sponging blood off the wall. ‘I’m sorry.’  
‘It’s all right,’ Ianto said stopping him. ‘I’ve got some magic cleaner stuff at work. I’ll fix it tomorrow.’ He pulled him up. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down. Come on.’ Hardly knowing what he meant by it he led Jack across the hallway to his room.   
The bedding was in a tangled heap from his hurried exit earlier and he pulled it up and straightened it out before turning the bed down. He plumped the pillows and turned back to face Jack overcome with shyness. Jack was just standing there looking at him. ‘Isn’t this what you came for,’ he asked.  
‘With you?’ Jack swallowed.   
Ianto nodded. The idea of more sleep was suddenly quite appealing. He was also quite nervous about what else might be wanted.   
Jack toed off his shoes and one handed undid his belt and trousers. ‘I just came to not be alone,’ he said carefully.  
‘Good,’ Ianto felt relieved, he really wasn’t quite sure what he was offering but if that’s all Jack wanted then they should be fine. It was fairly obvious that what they both needed was companionship with someone to chase away the nightmares. He hung his robe on the hook on the wardrobe door and got into his side of the bed, the right side. Jack carefully climbed in beside him. When they turned to face each other it meant Jack was lying on his good side. ‘Thank you,’ he said.  
Ianto kissed him on the forehead, turned back and put out the light. The LED on the clock said 4.44. It was Sunday tomorrow with no reason to get up. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with tiredness. It was the most natural thing in the world to move back against Jack, lying just as they had during the nights after Breacon Beacons when Ianto was so ill. Jack’s body wrapped around him, his arm came over his chest, and carefully because he knew it might hurt Ianto placed his own arms on top, hugging him tight. This time although the position was the same, Ianto knew implicitly that it was Jack who was receiving the comfort. Surprisingly for all the emotional upheaval of the past hour and the oddness of the situation, they did go to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto learns that Jack is different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really isn't Jack. I don't know what I was thinking. He'd have healed well before this. The romance though... that isn't too far off.

Ianto woke feeling rested and comfortable. It was so unusual he lay there and savoured the feeling. He was spooned up with Jack at his back, his senses overwhelmed. He was completely surrounded and the overall sensation was of being secure and safe.  
When he had been recovering from his injuries sleeping like this, that feeling of safety was all he had been aware of, now he was able to note more. It was not like the feeling of being this close to a woman. Jack’s body was touching him for most of his length and he was warm, nearly too much so. Jack’s legs were tucked right into his, his knees in the pits of his knees. He was vaguely aware of the texture of hairy thighs. It was odd and possibly slightly unpleasant. Wearing underwear and tee shirts the sensation was much less disconcerting along the rest of their bodies, Jack’s body was warm and solid against his. Jack’s left arm still wrapped around him while his right rested on the pillow above his head. He could tell he was still asleep by the regular little puffs of breath he felt in his hair near the back of his neck.  
There was one other sensation he got from the sleeping man. He could feel Jack’s cock. It was hot and felt like another limb, he might have thought it was his arm if he didn’t know where his arms were. With Jack’s hips pressed to his bum his cock was resting against the crack of his buttocks. It was most unusual. He grinned as he realised what it was he was feeling; it was exactly like it had been for him when he woke up in Tosh’s bed. He decided he didn’t mind. It was different but not unpleasant, quite the opposite in fact and it wasn’t as if Jack had any control over it. In fact, he had a fairly good morning stiffy himself and it had been a long time since he had woken up like that. He gave his cock a little caress. Mainly of course it was because he usually woke in the middle of the night with a screaming nightmare and he hardly ever went back to sleep long enough to get to a rested state. He was feeling good. It didn’t have anything at all to do with having another man’s erection poking him in the bum.  
He took Jack’s hand that was resting on his chest and stroked it gently. He had big hands. Ianto spread his own fingers and measured his hand against Jack’s. He and Jack were roughly the same height but Jack’s hands were definitely bigger. He laced his fingers through Jack’s and stroked the top of his hand with his thumb.  
He knew the exact moment Jack awoke because he stiffened. His breathing changed. He had a feeling he knew exactly what he was thinking and figured he was right when he jerked away. Holding his grip on his hand he reached over with his other hand and placed it on Jack’s thigh. ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘Stay there. I don’t mind.’ Keeping his hand on Jack’s leg he felt him relax and urged him back. He pulled Jack’s arms around him and dropped a kiss on his hand. ‘I don’t want you jumping up and running away just cause you wake up with an erection. I’ve got one too.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t take it personally.’ Jack chuckled into the back of his neck and kissed him.  
He lay there dozing, nodded off, woke up, realised that Jack’s arm was no longer around him but was tucked in against his back. Jack’s body didn’t seem as relaxed as before, he couldn’t feel him against his legs or bottom. Had he felt he needed to move away? What did he want? Ianto was pretty sure he knew the answer to that. The question was what did he want to do? He wasn’t attracted to men, but there was something about Jack. The thought wasn’t completely repellent. He was so aware of the other body in the bed in a way he never was with any female sleeping partner. If Jack asked, what would he say?’  
‘Ianto?’ Yarn toe. Jack put his hand on his back and he jumped. ‘Are you awake?’  
Heart suddenly thumping he rolled over. Then he saw Jack’s face, and everything changed. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’ He sat up.  
‘No. Have you got something for pain?’  
‘Your shoulder?’ he asked.  
Jack grimaced. He held his arm tight across his chest. ‘So sore I’m scared to move.’ He very carefully eased himself over onto his back and lay there, eyes shut. ‘Ow.’  
Slightly embarrassed Ianto realised that Jack had not been thinking about having sex with him at all.  
He shot out of bed and found the first aid kit. He’d found two codeine tablets in a pocket in the bag last night. He’d been surprised, he thought he’d taken all the codeine weeks ago and would certainly have used them if he’d known they were there. Collecting a glass of water he took them back to the bedroom. ‘These are the only codeine we’ve got, after this it’s back to paracetamol or we have to tell Owen.’ He helped Jack sit up enough to take them. ‘Let me see?’ He sat on the edge of the bed and peeled the tee shirt up. It was all he could do not to gasp when he saw Jack’s chest. Across his shoulder and chest down to his nipple line the flesh was purple and black. The colour bled further down and around his neck in lighter shades turning to yellow and green on the edges. There was dried blood showing on the dressing. ‘Bloody hell.’ He put his hand gently on the upper chest. ‘Where does it actually hurt?’  
‘Up higher,’ Jack waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his neck. He wasn’t going to touch. ‘You hit hard.’ He carefully lowered himself back onto the pillows.  
‘Well I was trying to kill you.’ He pulled the tee shirt back down.  
Jack gave that some thought. ‘Going for the neck?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Well it might have worked. You certainly managed to incapacitate me. I wouldn’t have been able to fight back very hard. You could have got up and got away. That’s the main point to be aiming for; to escape.’  
‘I was going to kill you. Not try to escape.’  
Jack looked at him deadly serious. ‘No Ianto. Don’t. You have to get away. You don’t have the training. If you haven’t killed in your first attack it is unlikely you will. You need to have the mindset, to incapacitate enough to escape. And if you can escape without attacking so much the better. Why didn’t you head out a window?’  
‘I wasn’t thinking that way.’ He felt defensive.  
‘Right.’ He could see Jack scheming. ‘I think I’ll get on to Special Forces and get them to give us all some hand to hand combat training. It can’t hurt to upskill.’  
‘Not today hey?’  
Jack smiled at him. ‘No, not today.’  
‘Okay,’ Ianto smiled back. ‘You stay there and let the codeine kick in. I’ll go make coffee and some breakfast. I fancy porridge. Is that okay?’  
‘Breakfast in bed. Lovely.’  
Ianto put on his robe and shot next door to borrow his neighbour’s Sunday paper. He knew Emily would have flicked through it briefly when she got home from her night shift. She’d be asleep now and wouldn’t want to read it until she woke up around three in the afternoon. Her son gave it to him.  
Porridge and honey, plunger coffee and cream, toast and more honey. Sunday paper and Jack in his bed. Yes it was different.  
It was very pleasant.  
Breakfast things moved aside they lay back and attacked the paper, each with a different section, reading aloud. I’m happy Ianto thought. This strange feeling. I’m happy. He leant back against Jack, tiring of the paper, cuddled against him. Jack’s arm came around him. Jack kept reading from the society page. He chuckled. Jack smelt good. In spite of a night of fright, pain and blood he still smelt good. It was a smell he’d learnt to associate with caring and comfort and he realised it was just Jack. He wuffled his nose into Jack’s armpit and sniffed.  
Jack giggled. ‘Ianto, what are you doing?’  
He suddenly remembered an intriguing comment from a not so happy time. ‘Jack, what Mary said, do you remember? She said you smell different to the rest of us.’ Jack’s arm tightened around him. He looked up. ‘What did she mean?’  
Jack was giving him a very calculating look. His whole body was tense. Ianto could sense him warring with himself. He realised he’d accidentally touched on one of Jack’s big dark secrets. He reached out and put his arm around him in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.  
‘What do you think?’ Jack finally asked.  
‘I think,’ Ianto said with absolute certainty, ‘that as you said to Mary, “You’re not from around these parts.”’ He realised he had actually known that for a very long time. ‘Where are you from Jack?’ He felt Jack’s body shudder. The heartbeat under his hand was suddenly all over the place. The silence dragged out so long he started to think he wasn’t going to get an answer.  
Jack gave a couple of shaky breaths and his hand found Ianto’s and held it. ‘I’m a time traveller,’ he finally said, ‘from the 51st century.’  
Ianto squeezed the hand back. He wasn’t terribly surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’  
Jack gave a wry chuckle. ‘Would it sound megalomaniac to say, saving the Earth?’  
‘Yeah, a little.’  
….  
‘Are there other time travellers here too?’  
‘No. There are one or two who pass through now and again. But no one else who’s made it their mission to stay here and save humanity if that’s what you mean.’  
‘This is a really long story isn’t it?’  
‘Yeah.’ Jack’s heartbeat had steadied again. ‘I’ll tell you if you want to know.’  
‘Thank you.’ Ianto thought. Now he knew that Jack wasn’t from now what did he want to know? ‘Will you go home again one day?’  
‘No. I can’t. But I might leave. In fact I will leave one day. I’m waiting… for another time traveller, he’s due very soon, I think in the next year or so and when he comes I’ll go with him. I don’t know if I’ll come back. I don’t know anything.’ The pulse under his finger tips was speeding up again. ‘I want to tell you I’ll be around to protect you forever but I can’t. I’m sorry Ianto I can’t.’  
Now that was revealing. ‘I don’t expect you to be around to protect me.’ He stroked Jack’s chest. ‘It’s all right. Really.’ He leant over and kissed Jack’s hand. ‘I just really appreciate the care you’re giving me now.’ He straightened slightly and looked him in the eye. ‘I haven’t forgiven you though, for killing Lisa. You need to know that.’  
Jack shrugged. ‘I haven’t forgiven you either. But I do understand.’  
Ianto settled back into Jack’s armpit. Sniffed. ‘You are human though, aren’t you? Even though you smell different?’  
‘Yes. I am definitely human, just slightly more evolved than you.’  
Ianto snorted. ‘You’re more evolved huh? Some days it’s really hard to tell. Ow.’ Jack’s hand swatted his head. ‘So that’s why I feel like…’  
‘What?’ Jack’s hand stroked where he’d hit. ‘What do you feel? Like you’re attracted to me?’  
Ianto realised that he was. Really.  
‘My pheromones are different,’ Jack explained. ‘You’re not usually interested in men, are you?’  
‘Not at all,’ Ianto said intrigued. His cock was once again standing at attention giving the lie to his words. It was nice to know there was an actual reason for that response to be triggered by Jack.  
‘But I’m different.’ Jack rolled over and faced him. ‘And Ianto I am really attracted to you.’ His eyes, only inches from his on the pillow were a piercing blue. Ianto’s breath caught in his throat. Jack leaned in closer and kissed him. His kiss was divine.  
Jack tasted of coffee and honey and that essence that he’d sensed earlier, chocolate and spice and something male. Musk? Ianto melted into it at the same time as a corner of his mind was doing a panicky back flip. You’re going to do it aren’t you, what the fuck is wrong with you, you are NOT gay. He backed away with a gasp.  
The blue eyes were still there, looking at him. Jack gave a tentative smile. ‘Your call,’ he said his voice steady, but his eyes gave him away. Jack was really nervous. ‘I want you but it’s up to you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.’  
‘I… do… want to.’ Jack wasn’t the only one who was nervous. ‘I think.’  
‘Why don’t we just kiss for a while? I’m a bit limited what I can do anyway with my shoulder like this. Kissing would be nice. Get to know each other a bit.’  
Kissing was nice. Kissing was more than nice. Jack seemed to know just how much pressure, how much tongue and teeth to use at any time. They came up for air and Jack held him close, both of them panting. ‘Sorry, I can’t use this hand much,’ Jack told him, ‘but it you want to use yours, explore me a little. I won’t mind.’  
Now there was an invitation.  
He started in the safe places. Pushed up the tee shirt and ran his hand across the well developed pecs of Jack’s chest, felt the little nubs of his nipples and tweaked them. He got a gratifying intake of breath that sent a jolt right through to his own groin. Jack’s hips shot forward and Ianto found himself responding so that they were cock to cock, with their boxer shorts creating a slippery layer between them. He rocked his hips forward too and felt Jack’s hot hardness against his own. It felt wonderful. Hand idly toying with Jack’s nipples, lips locked together he rubbed up against Jack’s cock. It was a full sensory experience.  
He rubbed himself up and down Jack’s length. Frottage, his brain supplied from somewhere, this is called frottage. Shut the fuck up, he told himself.  
He pulled his hand out from between their chests and reached down to clasp Jack’s buttocks, worked his way into his boxers and felt smooth taut skin. Jack moaned. Emboldened he moved his hand to the front, found Jack’s cock and suddenly didn’t quite know what to do with it. Jack pressed into his hand and left off kissing to move down and savage his neck. Automatically he wrapped his hand around it and pulled. Stupidly he thought, it feels just like my own, but different. He knew what to do with it now. Jack’s mouth left his neck and his head fell back. His hips jerked into his hand.  
‘Stop,’ Jack stuttered. He shifted back. ‘Fuck.’ He could hardly get the words out. ‘Stop.’  
‘What?’  
‘Too good.’ Jack was panting. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. With you. This is too good. You’re so…’ He gave a deep groan. ‘God Yan, last chance. If you go ahead with this. I won’t be able to… I can’t stop.’  
Ianto pressed his seriously engorged cock against Jack’s. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to do this yet but I’ll do anything you want. Now,’ he caught Jack’s head in his hands, ‘can we just shut the fuck up and get on with it.’  
‘Ohh yes.’ Jack’s hips ground against his. ‘Get your clothes off. Now!’  
He got his clothes off. And then he had to get Jack’s clothes off because he couldn’t get the tee shirt off on his own. He’d managed to lose the boxers though. They kissed some more, Ianto lying on top of Jack, skin to super sensitive skin right down the length of their bodies. Hip to hip they ground together and Ianto started to get desperate. Jack’s hand on his arse stilled and held him. ‘Yan?’  
‘Mmm.’ He tried to move.  
‘Have you got any lube?’  
‘No. Got massage oil though.’  
‘Get it.’  
He reached over and wrenched open the bedside cabinet drawer, fossicking through the detritus of several sad and guilty one night stands he’d had here back when Lisa was half alive in the basement. Do Not think of that.  
He had to get on his knees to reach the cabinet and could feel the weight of his erection pulling down. He heard Jack draw in a breath and then wonder of wonder felt his lips kiss his tip. Moving up slightly to give him better access he thought he would pass out with pleasure when Jack took him in his mouth. He leant up against the head board, knees on either side of Jack’s chest as he gave him the most exquisite blow job he’d ever had in his life. Thoughts of any other lovers were completely torn from his mind.  
Jack took the oil bottle from his hand and the next thing he knew he felt him fumbling with his arse hole and his finger popped in. Ianto gave a jolt of surprise but Jack’s tongue kept up a wonderful circuit of the head of his cock as his mouth sucked. Then Jack’s finger tweaked and his level of arousal rocketed, he thrust into Jack’s warm mouth and suddenly found himself gasping and floundering in complete disbelief when the mouth and finger withdrew.  
‘What?’ Christ. He could barely breathe. Jack was looking up at him breathing hard. ‘Why did you stop?’  
Jack licked his lips. ‘Are you ready for more?’  
Wordlessly he nodded.  
‘Good.’ He passed him the oil bottle. ‘Rub some of that on me.’  
Ianto complied. And now he’d gotten himself under a little control it seemed only fair he should pay Jack back. He spread the oil exquisitely slowly over Jack’s whole torso, rubbing it carefully around his nipples, painting tracks down his belly. Jack didn’t seem to mind. As he worked slowly lower however he got a little more twitchy. Unfortunately Jack’s agitation worked on him too and he was starting to feel he was going to come right now, without his cock or anything else being touched again. The little moans Jack was making where driving him crazy.  
He poured another measure of oil into his palm and taking pity rubbed it lovingly into Jack’s cock and balls, exploring and learning what another man felt like. Then remembering what Jack had done to him ran his finger back up to his arse and teased the hole. He could see Jack’s cock twitch and juice leak from the end as his hips bucked up. Dear god! ‘Tell me what to do Jack.’ He could barely get the words out. ‘What do you want me to do?’  
Jack’s eyes were melting luminous blue. ‘Sit on me,’ he ordered. ‘God Yan. You take control.’ He gasped. ‘Please.’  
Ianto knew exactly what he meant. Kneeling he straddled Jack’s hips. He took hold of the other man’s slippery cock and carefully lowered himself until it was against his arse. It was so big that he felt a moment’s fright but Jack nodded encouragingly. He paused briefly, could feel Jack fighting to keep still, then sank lower. The cock entered him easily, slippery and hot, the feeling was new and very nice. There was no pain, just fullness and heat. He saw what Jack meant, he could take control. He pulled up a little, felt the tip catch at his entrance, lowered back. His own cock seemed to be pumped up by the movement. He hadn’t thought it was possible to be any harder. He moaned, lifted again, saw Jack watching him entranced. ‘You are so beautiful,’ Jack said. He lowered, lifted again, lowered and OH MY GOD. Oh Christ what was that, that was amazing! He cried out and thrust back down again, find that spot, wow, feel that again.  
He lowered himself all the way, was sitting on Jack’s belly, his cock completely inside. It was the most arousing feeling he’d ever had. Jack’s hips bucked under him, suddenly unable to keep still any longer. Head thrown back, eyes closed Jack was thrusting up into him and he was the beautiful one. They met each other stroke for stroke, Ianto angling forward just so, taking him all the way, building and building, the feeling amazing, looking down, seeing but not seeing the beautiful man underneath him, utterly wrapt in the new sensations, never wanting it to end but knowing that if it didn’t soon his heart would probably stop. He never knew sex could be like this. Then Jack’s hand found his cock, wrapped around it and held tight so that his jerks propelled him into his fist. Dear god, Jack in him and around him. Jack losing himself in him. The two of them increasingly frantic, faster and harder, grunting and crying, bodies slapping. Then Jack jerked and screamed his name. Ianto felt himself shatter. He was coming inside and out, his body rigid, his sperm shooting across Jack’s belly and his muscles inside squeezing and clamping as Jack spasmed and came inside him. He managed to take a breath and collapsed.

Eons later, muscles still twitching he became vaguely aware of his name being called. Jack was calling his name increasingly urgently. He gasped and started to come back into an awareness of the world. His legs were cramped and tangled. He was nearly incapable of moving. ‘Ianto,’ Jack sounded panicked. ‘Get off me.’  
‘Oh God.’ He must have fallen forward. He was lying right across Jack his head pressing into his injured shoulder. ‘Sorry.’ Carefully and awkwardly he lifted himself off. He could barely move. ‘Sorry.’ He held himself up on his arms and looked down at Jack; his lover. ‘Are you all right? Did I hurt you?’  
He had, that was obvious, but Jack smiled at him, that cheeky grin. ‘I thought I’d be using that line.’  
Carefully he dropped down beside him and cuddled up close. ‘That was amazing.’  
Jack’s arm came around him. ‘I was, wasn’t I?’  
Ianto whacked him.  
‘Ow.’ He rolled over and kissed him. ‘You were wonderful. I have been imagining that for so long…’  
‘You have?’ Ianto asked.  
‘Oh yeah. I fancied you the minute I saw you.’  
‘Wow.’ He kissed back, felt his eyes closing. ‘Can we do that again later?’  
‘Oh you bet we can.’  
They stayed in bed all day. Ianto revived incredibly quickly and Jack gave him a beautiful blow job. A while later he had a go at returning the favour and didn’t do too badly for a novice. They slept a while and cuddled a lot. They talked. Jack shared his deepest secret.  
When Jack told him he couldn’t die Ianto’s response was not one of wonder or horror or awe. It wasn’t even of disbelief. He believed him. As Jack told him the whole sorry story of fighting, death, resurrection and abandonment he held him tight. Ianto’s response was a feeling of overwhelming love. Jack trusted him absolutely and it was the final thing he needed. He realised it was not just lust he was feeling. It was not just a need of and acceptance of comfort. In the course of the day his feelings had deepened. He was in love.  
Ianto had to get up to return his neighbour’s newspaper mid afternoon and came back to bed with bananas and apples. He was hungry. Jack was dozing, curled on the pillow, his hair tousled, the bruise already yellowing and showing signs of healing. He was absolutely beautiful.  
Ianto recognised something. For the first time in many many months, probably years he wasn’t just surviving, he wasn’t in pain. He was alive and he was happy. He crawled back into bed with his lover. It may be only temporary but for now it was good. He was home.


End file.
